


Distraction

by BitZombie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Metal Arm Kink, Tags to be added, for now, masturbation mention, this will be a metal arm kink fic im sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitZombie/pseuds/BitZombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t until he was taking half of Shiro’s weight, metal arm draped across the back of Lance’s neck, that he actually registered the difference between the guy’s arms. In size and shape the prosthetic was nearly identical, but it was more solid, heavier than it seemed, and it took Lance a few breaths to get used to the pressure of it lying across his shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm literally publishing this as I finish chunks of it, it's unbetaed and not proofread, so beware.

When Lance first saw Shiro’s arm, watching raptly over Pidge’s shoulder on her small monitor as the pilot struggled against the garrison staff, he didn’t really register it. Sure, he heard the medical staff mention the prosthetic, but at the time he was distracted by the fact that they were sedating Takashi Shirogane, the pilot of the missing Kerberos mission crew—his role-model since high-school—without listening to a word coming out of his mouth. It seemed so unfair, so cruel, to force the guy into unconsciousness when he’d obviously already been through the wringer and hadn’t raised his hand –flesh or metal—against anyone, despite his fear and frustration. The look on his face as they held him down chilled Lance to the bone. The most important thing after that was getting Shiro out, and then Keith showed up and suddenly it was the _only_ thing.

Looking back, that rivalry might have been only in his head, but Lance is pretty sure without it he wouldn’t have had the determination to do half the things he’s done.

He’s still not going to admit it though.

It wasn’t until he was taking half of Shiro’s weight, metal arm draped across the back of Lance’s neck, that he actually registered the difference between the guy’s arms. In size and shape the prosthetic was nearly identical, but it was more solid, heavier than it seemed, and it took Lance a few breaths to get used to the pressure of it lying across his shoulders. It was warm too, cooler than skin but not as cold as he’d expected, the smooth metal feeling more like it didn’t have a temperature at all, absorbing the heat coming off of Lance’s skin.

Even after their escape, once they’ve regrouped in Keith’s cabin and wiped the dust and grime of the desert off their faces, Lance could still feel the phantom sensation of Shiro’s arm against the nape of his neck, and he was pretty sure he’d been blushing for the last few hours. He wasn’t even thinking when he brought his hand up to rub at the skin until Hunk looked at him sideways from across the small living space. Lance grinned widely in return, watching as his friend smiled and turned to launch himself into the discussion between Keith and Pidge. Apparently whatever heat he felt on his cheeks wasn’t obvious to anyone but him.

After that, the sensation dissipated as Lance’s attention moved to focus on other things, and eventually faded completely—drowned out by a long list of events all blurring one into another, Voltron and the Blue Lion, the Galra attack and the discovery of the Castle of Lions, Allura and Coran.

It never really disappears though, much to Lance’s chagrin. Every time Shiro puts his arm to use, the limb glowing purple with Galra energy and tearing through metal like butter, Lance finds himself staring. At first he doesn’t think much of it -- after all the arm is a cool piece of tech and Shiro wields it with impressive skill—but as the weeks pass and time goes on, he finds himself in a small predicament.

He can’t stop staring.

It’s been months, the novelty of watching his former role-model tear sentries to shreds should have worn off--especially when he himself has wrecked more than his fair share of Galra tech, albeit with his bayard instead of his bare hands. And it’s no longer just the arm. It’s all of Shiro, the way he moves when he fights and how his face glows and warps in the light from his arm mid-combat.

Lance’s appreciation of Shiro and his arm has turned into a full-blown crush without his realizing it, and he could hit himself for it. It’s one thing to find the guy attractive—that’s not even up for debate—but of all the stupid things Lance has done without realizing it, falling for Shiro (via an appreciation for his prosthetic arm, no less) is probably the stupidest in recent memory.

When he recognizes the attraction for what it is, things get worse. It gets harder and harder to keep his eyes on Shiro’s face when he’s talking, and sparring becomes an exercise in self-restraint. Really Lance would be proud of himself for the effort he’s putting into training as a result, if he wasn’t so busy berating himself. Shiro’s been through hell, and while Lance doesn’t know any details, he’s fairly certain Shiro didn’t volunteer to have his arm amputated and replaced with a metal prosthetic, and the fact that Lance finds it attractive seems just, so gross. He feels guilty and shallow for finding it attractive, even though he knows he only likes it because it’s attached to Shiro, and it’s the combination of Shiro _and_ his arm that has Lance in a constant but very mild flustered state.

And Shiro is still So Nice. He gives out compliments and reassurances constantly and equally, and although no one is exempt from his habit of hugging whoever’s closest after a mission, Lance still finds himself actively seeking out those rare pieces of physical affection when Shiro’s around, despite knowing exactly how the contact affects him. He’ll spend the rest of the day pleased as punch that he did something worthy of recognition, but when everyone turns in for the night and he’s lying on his bed replaying the day in his mind, it’ll be a cocktail of guilt and arousal that colours his thoughts as his hand slips under soft sleep pants to wrap around his dick.

So far, no one’s noticed Lance’s preoccupation with Shiro’s arm, and despite how often he finds himself distracted by his own thoughts, he’s only ever been called out on it once or twice and never during active combat, thankfully.

As long as he can keep a handle on his distraction, he’s okay. He’s been able to hide it so far, there’s no reason that should suddenly change. He just needs to keep a lid on it.

Of course he hadn’t counted on _dreaming_ about the arm, or the guy attached to it. His head is determined to trip him up.

That just adds a whole new level of difficulty that Lance isn’t entirely prepared to deal with, right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I'll get to the smut soon, but please be patient bc I'm a space ace who has never written smut outside of some very embarrassing tumblr rp. 
> 
> There's not enough Shance and I am a member of the "if u want it, write it" mentality, although rarely have the energy to follow through lmao. hmu on garrisonsfinest.tumblr.com if u are also a shance shipper (im a dirty multishipper in actuality though, beware).


	2. Escalation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting out of hand and Lance is only so good at pretending to be cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be explicit masturbation. It's probably not that well-written, there's your warning.
> 
> Still unbetaed and not proofread, so apologies for glaring grammatical errors and the like.

Lance wakes up damp and disoriented. That in itself isn’t unusual; his sleeping patterns haven’t been great since he left earth, and waking up in a cold sweat unable to recognize the room he’s been calling his own for the last couple of months is such a frequent occurrence he just sort of brushes it off now. It’s not really affecting his sleep, and although it gets old waking up in a mild panic it’s not enough to worry him. This morning though, the disorientation is absent, a welcome but weird change considering how Lance doesn’t ever wake up on his own without it. He’s still damp with sweat though, and he can feel his sheets sticking to his skin like someone’s dumped a bucket of water over top of his many blankets. It’s excessive this morning, and for a few minutes Lance just lies in bed, trying to work up the energy to peel the sheets from his body, gradually becoming more and more aware as he wakes up properly. As his brain comes back online he shifts around, making to force himself out of bed when he feels the unnecessary amount of slick between his legs.

“What- aw man really-? Gross…” Frustrated, he tears the fabric from his bed, sleep pants sticking to it resolutely. The pants are soaked in come that’s already cooling in the air and creating a disgusting sensation Lance never wants to experience ever again. It’s a testament to how much he usually sweats during the night that he took so long to notice that he had a wet dream that he can’t even remember having, at the minute.

Embarrassed, he peels everything off his bed and his body, wiping himself down with a dirty pillow case before violently shoving it and everything else into the little laundry hatch near his bed without a second glance. They’re all beyond saving at this point, and in all honesty he’s gone through three sets of sheets already this week, another one isn’t that weird. Grumbling under his breath Lance pulls on a fresh pair of pants and his housecoat, grabbing his stuff and stalking out of his room towards the showers, determined to scrub every last inch of his body before he has to interact with anyone that might be awake. Briefly Lance wonders what time it is, and prays the showers are empty.

The lights in the castle halls are still dim, a dull hum in the walls telling him the ship is still in what the entire team has decided to designate ‘night mode’. He’s safe enough wandering into the showers then—everyone in their right mind is still asleep. Still, years of habit have him stepping gingerly into the shower area and immediately tensing when the sound of running water reaches his ears. While debating whether he actually needs to take a shower—which is gross and he knows he’ll never go through with it—the shower turns off, the sound of water replaced by the shuffling of feet on wet tile.

Shiro steps out from the direction of the shower stalls not long after, towel around his waist and hair still dripping, the water running in little rivulets down his neck and cheeks and glittering against the metal of his arm. He looks tired but relaxed, skin flushed from the heat of his shower, and Lance finally notices there’s an undercurrent of tension in the other paladin he’s only aware of by its absence in this moment. The guy carries so much on his shoulders all the time, it’s rare to see him without that weight. It’s not until he brings his eyes up to Shiro’s face that he realizes he was staring. He also suddenly remembers the exact subject of his dream last night—and immediately he can feel his face turning red, the residue on his skin making him itch under Shiro’s gaze.

Shiro’s eyes are locked on his, mild surprise passing over his face before he smiles, a small thing Lance isn’t entirely sure he actually saw. Almost as quickly as it came, the smile drops, concern taking its place as Shiro takes a step forward.

“It’s rare to see you up before everyone else Lance—did you sleep okay?”

The concern just makes Lance flush darker, and he hopes against hope that the lights are too dim for Shiro to see exactly how red he’s gotten.

“What? Yeah, sure. Peachy! Got my eight hours and just couldn’t wait to start the day!” He waves his hand dismissively when Shiro continues to stare, “I’m fine, just woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep. If I’m not unconscious I don’t wanna be lying in bed doing nothing--makes me jittery.” As though to sell it, Lance grins brightly, his foot starting to tap at the floor as he fights the urge to follow a drop of water from Shiro’s collar as it makes its way down towards his abs—shit. With a twitch his eyes are back on Shiro’s face as though he hadn’t just been oogling the man’s chest. Shiro’s lips twitch slightly but he nods, and Lance breathes a small sigh of relief when he turns to his clothes, sitting in a neat pile near the stalls. Taking that as his cue to go, Lance makes his way towards the showers, desperate to get himself under the water and out of sight. The sound of Shiro calling his name stops him in his tracks right before he can turn the corner though, and reluctantly Lance turns back around, only to get an eyeful of pale skin, scarred and pulled taught over thick muscle that shifts and tenses as the black paladin pulls a shirt over his head.

“Training starts right after breakfast today, so don’t even think about going back to bed after your shower.” His words are muffled by fabric near the end, but Lance still huffs in acknowledgement, his face burning as he tears his eyes from the display.

“I did that one time, one time! And in my defense no one told me I had to be up early the night before!” Lance turns on his heel and shuffles into the showers, the sound of Shiro’s chuckle echoing against the tile. He wastes no time hurrying towards the furthest stall, shucking his housecoat and pants and leaving them in a heap on the floor in front of the stall, topped by his towel.

The warm water starts up immediately, and Lance slumps in relief as the rhythm of it thrums against his skin. Even without soap he already feels cleaner, sweat and come washing down the drain along with the last vestiges of sleep while he stands under the spray. Eventually he lathers up, scrubbing himself down and rinsing off with rough movements before moving on to his hair, taking time to enjoy the weirdly sweet scent of the castle’s shampoo before rinsing that out as well. The lights in the showers are still dim, so Lance takes his time to enjoy the quiet warmth, standing still under the water and trying his best to keep his thoughts blank.

It works about as well as could be expected, and before long his mind turns towards his dream from last night, half-remembered scenes and painfully clear sensations filling his head. Sighing loudly he leans forward until his head hits the side of the shower wall, cold tile a shock to heated skin. The memories are really blurs—hot skin and cool metal, damp breath and bruising force—colliding and overwhelming him as he leans against the wall and tries to find his breath. He can feel the pressure building in his groin, and when he reaches a hand down he finds himself already hard and more than a little sensitive, the slight friction from his hand making his hips jerk in response. With a groan Lance gives up immediately, wrapping slim fingers around his cock and dragging them down slowly. He’s still sensitive from the morning’s dream, but despite have already come once, there’s an edge of desperation to it that he’s not entirely convinced isn’t because he’s in the communal showers—despite the fact that he knows he’s alone. Still, he moves slowly, one hand moving across his chest and down between his legs, rubbing circles as it goes and pausing as his fingers reach his ass.

Idly he considers using the castle-provided soap as lube, but common sense shoots that idea down immediately despite the haze in his mind, and instead he continues rubbing the sensitive skin in time with the hand on his cock. The combination of pressure draws an involuntary whimper from parted lips, and Lance falls forward until his chest and head are pressed against the wall, the cold tile against his nipples sending a shiver down his spine.

A breathy curse cuts the steam, and Lance shoves three fingers into his mouth to muffle the shout he knows is coming, barely making it before a choked name falls from his lips as his hand tightens around his shaft, pulling quickly. He comes with a muffled shout, come splattering against the wall and coating his fingers as he milks the last of his orgasm, panting against the wall. Afetr a few seconds catching his breath, Lance pulls his fingers from his mouth, stepping back under the shower on shaky legs and quickly washing the come from his legs and the wall before shutting it off. As he stands in the stall, listening to the water drip off his body and down the drain, the muffled sound of a door sliding closed reaches his ears.

Swearing, Lance stiffens, but nothing else happens, and as he steps out into the empty room, he convinces himself he was hearing things, drying himself down quickly and throwing his clothes back on. The lights flicker on to maximum as he moves, and once he’s dressed he books it back to his room to get dressed before heading for breakfast.

He resolutely doesn’t think about the fact that he never heard Shiro leave the shower room.

\--

When Lance finally makes it to breakfast, everyone else is just sitting down to eat, all reaching for their personal favourites as he settles himself in his chair, thankfully sandwiched between Keith and Hunk. He doesn’t really know if he can stomach looking Shiro in the eyes after this morning, regardless of whether or not he actually heard Lance in the showers. Even thinking about it makes Lance’s face warm as he takes his seat. Hunk shifts next to him, swallowing a mouthful of food goo in an attempt to say good morning to him, but Allura beats him to it.

“Good morning Lance! It’s nice to have you up and eating with us for once!” she enthuses, sipping at her drink and staring at him over the edge of her cup. He knows she’s not trying to poke fun at him—he’s never late, just a little later than everyone else—so Lance doesn’t even bother trying to defend himself at this point. Before he can reply, she barrels forward, her eyes narrowing as she looks him over.

 “You’re looking a little flushed, are you feeling alright? You haven’t come down with something, have you?”

The genuine concern in her voice makes the remaining blush in Lance’s cheeks flare up once more, but he ignores its heat, shaking his head as he pastes a grin across his face. He can feel the eyes of his teammates zeroing in on the red on his skin, and for a moment he feels bad that he’s managed to worry them all over nothing in the first fifteen minutes of the day.

“It’s nothing Princess, I slept funny last night and my shower was a lot hotter than normal this morning—but I’m feeling one hundred percent, no need to worry about me.” Satisfied with the answer, Allura shifts her attention to Coran, and eventually conversation turns to the Castle of Lions and the newest upgrades being made. Lance dives into his breakfast, ignoring Hunk and Keith’s twin stares as he shovels food into his mouth in an attempt to get rid of the blush on his face. Hunk waits until he comes up for air to take a sip of water before leaning in close, concern clear on his features.

“You sure you’re okay? You look a little off this morning Lance…”

“I’m fine buddy, really. Had a bit of a rough morning, that’s all. Promise.” The meaning behind his words isn’t lost on Hunk, and the yellow paladin wraps an arm around Lances shoulder in a quick hug before dropping the subject, exactly like Lance knew he would. Lance is no stranger to bad mornings, the sweat and disorientation only the tip of the iceberg sometimes, and Hunk knows only enough about what lurks under the surface to know that Lance has trouble with mornings. He feels a little bad to be using that excuse today, but between that and telling the truth… Lance is pretty sure sharing isn’t caring in that context.

Breakfast continues without incident, despite the constant sensation of being watched Lance knows is coming from Keith. He also knows if his former rival has something to say, he’ll say it when he feels like it, and Lance doesn’t really want to push right now. So he deals with the staring and eats his breakfast, waiting for Shiro to give them the schedule for the day.

“Alright everybody. We’ve got a full day of travel in the castle ahead of us, so we’ll be spending the majority of the day sparring. You’ve all improved a lot with your bayards, but we need to focus on hand to hand now—if you lose your bayard you want to be able to protect yourself until you can either get it back or find a suitable replacement.” Groans echo across the table at the announcement, and Lance curses under his breath. Hand-to-hand sparring always results in painful bruises and aching muscles he’s fairly certain didn’t exist before they started to hurt, not to mention the sheer effort required on Lance’s part to refrain from spending the entire time staring at Shiro and getting his ass handed to him as a result.

Keith laughs at Lance’s apparent anguish, and when Lance turns to glare at him the red paladin gives him a look Lance could swear is something akin to pity, like he knows exactly why Lance hates sparring.

Lance doesn’t want to think too hard about that, right now. He huffs and pushes himself from the table, everyone else doing the same, heading off to their rooms to change and prepare for the hell that’s awaiting them. As he walks towards the door, mind distracted by the way his food is sitting in his stomach at the prospect of training today, he looks eyes with Shiro—for once completely by accident—as he passes the other paladin. The look he gives Lance throws him for a loop, and despite the immediate shame that passes through Lance’s body he can’t break the stare. Shiro’s eyes are piercing, and the fire behind them would be enough to paralyze a lesser man, or one less practised in ignoring his body’s natural reactions. Lance however, is very well versed in that particular skill, and he keeps walking, all the way to his room, where he immediately face plants on his mattress that’s still devoid of sheets.

Good morning my ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh. This was actually fun to write, and a lot more than I expected to have? I still have to write the whole purpose of this fic but bear with me, I'm working up to it. 
> 
> Hopefully my first foray into explicit fic wasn't too horrendous lmao.
> 
> As always, if you'd like to chat about Voltron or Shance or anything else, hmu on my voltron blog @ garrisonsfinest.tumblr.com!


End file.
